


Not Just A Hero

by NotABlogAKhaleesi



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, F/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2020-05-13 07:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19246186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotABlogAKhaleesi/pseuds/NotABlogAKhaleesi
Summary: Her story was filled with death from the very first second, and still, she kept going. Lionel had to find out, was there something wrong with her mind? There must be, from the moment she came into the world, she had a death toll, the things that does to someone, especially a child, it was sick.But she wasn’t a child, no matter how much people wanted to pass off the powerful woman as a feeble-minded girl, she was darkness, beauty, power, but above all that, she was Dianna Layne Lewis, the lounge singer at Koronance.





	1. The Start

“You shouldn’t drink so much.”

“If you drank more, you’d be more fun.”

 

Screams weren’t uncommon in this city. Crime always existed. And besides, in this raunchy place, people scream for any reason. Maybe it was fitting that their own vigilante used her voice as a weapon.

Another scream flowed throughout the small diner, and underneath that, gentle humming.

The melody vibrated against the four men’s skulls. 

The sound was lovely when the gentle notes seemed to blend together and form words.

They were kind, promising of everlasting summers and kisses in the sun. The voice growled at the end of notes, sending a wave of pain through the men.

Blood pooled in their ears, in their eyes, noses, mouths, anywhere blood could escape.

Their brains melted in their skulls, and one by one the men dropped, each thud echoing beautifully against the linoleum, blending in with the tune.

There was one man standing when she finally revealed herself.

She was beautiful, singing her honeyed words, but there was a certain coldness in her eyes.

Without really meaning to, the man reached out a gloved hand, maybe subconsciously meant to strike the woman and stop her deadly music. His hand came down gingerly across her cheek, caressing her cold face. 

For a moment, the image in front of him flickered. No longer was the woman simply a beautiful goddess. She seemed to melt into every existence, an old crone, a fair young girl, and doe-eyed toddler, a withered young woman with scars on half her face and tears in her eyes. She was still beautiful in her face and body, but now it wasn’t delicate, it was ferocious beauty that started with cold eyes and ended in bloody lips.

Her song stopped, and for a moment she stayed as that scarred woman, and then her voice came back, and with it came tenfold destruction.

The windows shattered around them, and the man fell to his knees and choked on his bloodied pleading.

Then, he joined the rest of the men, slumped in shattered glass and blood.

It wasn’t pretty, but death never was, the scarred girl knew that well, knew it more than she should.

At twenty-five years old, she had a body count higher than most, but those she saved outweighed the ones she killed, so that was okay at least.

 

She was sought after, by police, criminals, and the weak. Some sought protection, vengeance, help, or death. But no one could amount to the level of pining such as Lionel Collin.

He was a collector of sorts, collecting extraordinary people. He had a woman who cries diamonds, a man made of solid gold who couldn’t lift his body and had to be pushed in a wheelchair, a toddler who could change into any animal at the drop of a hat, and a boy who could heal anything and bring someone back from the dead. He had acquired so many extraordinary, but he still wanted Her.

Maybe it was spite, twenty-five years since she'd come into this world, he still couldn’t catch her. From the first day, when he heard a news story about a baby who’d screamed bloody murder when pulled from the womb, and killed everyone in the room with her shrieks.

Her story was filled with death from the very first second, and still, she kept going. Lionel had to find out, was there something wrong with her mind? There must be, from the moment she came into the world, she had a death toll, the things that does to someone, especially a child, it was sick.

But she wasn’t a child, no matter how much people wanted to pass off the powerful woman as a feeble-minded girl, she was darkness, beauty, power, but above all that, she was Dianna Layne Lewis, the lounge singer at Koronance.

 

The sound a soothing sax flowed through the dimly lit room, and then a heavy bass, piano, and then a voice. She flooded the room with such beautiful low notes, the kind that captivated every man and woman in the room. She growled out the chorus, and revealed herself on the stage, decked in silvery glitter, illuminated by the spotlight and jealousy. She was a vision up there in her glittering red dress, one leg left uncovered by a slit in the gown, and a sultry look on her face. She held the mic like it was an extension of her body, and it was hard to believe it wasn't. She seemed so at peace up on that stage, and then her moods changed, and the next verse brought a crashing of waves in the souls of every person in the lounge. The men put down their brandy and the women their cocktails, and all were left with dreamy looks on their faces. She was good at that, making people at peace with just her voice, and she did, all except two people, in the far back, peeking at her through a veil of red lace curtains. The two in question were two who’s souls never truly seemed at peace anywhere but a battlefield. Natasha Romanoff seemed to be a regular at the lounge of Koronance, it reminded her of the battlefield in a way, all the reds and alcohol and chaos, it was only ever calm when Ruby went on stage. It was a show name surely, she was only called Ruby because of all the reds she wore, red lipstick, red dress, rubies in her jewelry, so red. Natasha had to admit that she was beautiful, in a way that made you crave her, and that was dangerous. James was different though, truly, he was captivated by her like all the rest, but he wasn’t wary of her like Natasha, sure, she was goddess-like, but outside of her otherworldly beauty and charming quality, she was just another girl in New York looking for her big break with a good voice, there was no harm calling her what she was, pretty, but not entirely special.

James was only here because Natasha thought he might like the old style of the place, maybe it would make him calm to be in a place that was so familiar, she also hoped that Ruby might be able to use her voice to put him at ease. 

She hadn’t anticipated that after Ruby left the stage, blowing kisses in all directions and bidding her patrons goodnight, that James would ask more about the woman who’d somehow sung a room full of people into serenity, nor did she anticipate that he’d want to return the next night.

Natasha was worried but grateful, at least he had something other the pain he’d experienced on his mind.

 

Ruby found herself in a familiar company that night, people who were regulars came to see her every Friday and Saturday night, those were the nights where she had the most stage time, but some came every night, even the ones where she sang only one song. 

For two weeks now, that man had shown up every night. The man in question was rather handsome, she had to admit. His dark hair hung to his shoulders and complimented his light eyes. Maybe it was something about the dim lights or maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t really been with anyone in what? Two months? Maybe he’d stick around and offer something special, it wasn’t abnormal for the men in the audience to bring her flowers or gifts, they were all enchanted with her. Some wanted her for a trophy wife, others liked to be sung to sleep after a night of romance, but all of them were enchanted by her looks. None of them were especially interested in who she was underneath her voice and pretty face, only about what was underneath her clothes.

Some part of her hoped he’d stay after her song, maybe even wait outside her dressing room with a dozen roses and an invitation to dinner. After all, he had something beautiful and stoic all at once about him, and the rest of her admirers didn’t pique her interest as he did. So, maybe, just maybe, he’d be different.

 

Friday night was in full swing, a blur of cocktails bought by handsome and not so handsome gentlemen, a flurry of rose petals, spotlights, and red lipstick. It was usual for Dianne. The beat sang in tune with every pulse of her heart. She felt power at night, screaming her heart out to stop the evil in Manhattan. But here, in the evening, she was more powerful than ever. With a smile, she could make a mans world crash around him, and with a swivel of her hips, she could set a heart aflame.

The beautiful man was back again, and it seemed he had forever laid claim to the booth in the back, shrouded by the lacy red curtains. Tonight the woman wasn’t with him. At first, Dianne thought he might be connected with her romantically, the way the two crowded each other and never strayed from the other’s presence, it was a clear indication that they were something more than friends. But then, one Monday, Dianne found herself seated at the bar, surrounded by adoring men, she caught in the corner of her eye, the beautiful man with a delicate blonde performer perched on his lap. He looked tense, but the red-haired woman laughed next to him, so maybe Dianne had a chance.

Saturday night came and went, and for once, Dianne couldn’t spot the man alone in his little alcove. No, he wasn’t alone. At his side were two men and two women. Each of them had an air of beauty, but none gave the mystery of the dark-haired bright-eyed man. The tall blonde one was the most relaxed among them, and at one point Dianne saw him shrug off his sweater to give to the smallest woman. The smallest woman sat in the blonde one's large sweater, she had brown hair, and when the lights flickered above her, Dianne spotted hints of red buried in it. A dark-skinned man sat between the blonde one and the dark-haired, man, he had his arm casually draped across the back of the booth. Directly across from the blonde one was the red-haired woman who’d been there at the beginning.

A hush seemed to grow over the crowded lounge when the owner, Hal, announced Ruby would be on stage shortly.

Dianne smoothed her cocktail dress. Tonight, it was a black sleeveless number with red glitter sprinkled across her skin, tonight would be an exciting one, she was sure of it.

 

The mic stand was cool against Dianna’s fingers, but she curled herself around it nonetheless. It was a normal night. Drinks, flirting for more tips, giggling at bad jokes, selling a kiss for a hundred dollar bill, normal. Dianne found herself glancing at the little lace alcove in the back, where the pretty man and his friends sat. She even found herself staring into those cold captivating eyes as she shrugged off her silken cover, revealing the black sultry dress underneath. Surely, each night she blew a kiss in his direction, an invitation for her to talk with him. Every other man and woman in the crowd who’d gotten a sweet smile had piled behind her the moment she’d stepped off the stage, so why hadn’t he? There was little room for him to misinterpret her smiles and kisses and revealing clothes as she sang her heart out, all the while staring into his eyes. He’d have to be out of his mind to not talk to her tonight.

So, after six songs and what felt like a million years, Dianna made her way off the stage, ignoring everyone in her own anger. She’d given him so many smiles, so many flirtatious winks, so many implications that she wanted to speak with him, drink with him, maybe even go home with him. Maybe he was playing hard to get, or maybe he was just plain dumb either way, Dianna was done thinking about how he would feel against her, or how his lips would taste, she was done pining over a man she didn’t know.

She was on her break, after every six songs she got a thirty-minute break, and she was sure to use those thirty minutes to drink, and change. If he wanted to play hardball, she’d be up next to bat.

When Dianna stepped back onto the stage, the world slowed, and every eye was once again on her. Don’t be mistaken, people looked at her for her beauty, for her voice, but they mostly looked at her with adoring eyes, they never lusted particularly hard unless she let her emotion seep into her voice. She decided to do just that.

The girls were allowed to wear whatever outfits they wanted on stage, it just had to refrain from complete nudity and be at least a little classy. Dianna decided a black bralette and high waisted black skirt would be enough. Her skirt went to the floor and trailed behind her a bit, but she kept her signature slit, revealing a long pale leg, and it stopped at her upper thigh, showing off a bit of her ivy tattoo. 

She relaxed into the chaise lounge chair, allowing the velvet to soothe the goosebumps on her bare skin.

She could practically hear the men and women cry out in anguish when they saw her, draped over the chair with her skin on display, her hair curled in a classic forties style, and a hand ghosting over her lace bound chest.

She felt their want, their need for her flow over her skin when she parted her plum shaded lips to sing.

Every eye in the room was on her, but no one was comfortable. Usually, she sang to calm people when she was in the lounge, but now, everyone was on the edge of their seats, waiting with eager hungry ears and eyes for her next words. When she rose from the chaise with a start, a few people rose with her, ready to be at her service within a moment. The ones who did stand stayed at the end of the stage, their wanting hands ready to touch whatever of her they could. One of them is the dark-skinned man who sat with the object of Dianna’s fantasies.

When she spun across the stage on bare feet, her skirt rose up around her in an almost ethereal way, giving the crowd an eyeful of her toned legs.

She practically screamed the lyrics, dancing around with her full body, not letting a single limb rest for too long as she spun and caressed the heavens with her fingertips.

She spun her way to the foot of the stage, not stopping for a second as she spun into the outstretched arms of the evenly muscled friend of the pretty man. He held her tightly, even spinning her a few times as he held her bridal style.

When he released her, she found her feet in an instant, pulling his hands into hers and spinning with him. 

He spun her, and then let go, leaving her to glide through the ever-growing crowd of people now standing with her.

When she found herself in the arms of the next patron, he lifted her at the waist, lifting her into the air as he did what resembled a waltz, allowing her to lean back and spread her arms as her pelvis ground into his.

She belted out the next few notes, and the air grew heavier as she finished on a high note, not even giving the room a breath as she laughed.

It sounded like something different to everyone who heard it, a high flute, deep bass, gentle sax, wedding bells, some even said it sounded like what greeted you after death, but all would agree that it sounded like love and happiness.

Dianna felt pity for whoever thought they were the object of her love, because the reason she sounded in love wasn’t the people, not the red lights or the adoration, no, it was her love for music and the stage and limelight, and it left everyone breathless when she was done.

 

Begging never did much good, not when Banshee found a man like she’d found this one. 

He’d brought a drunken woman into an alley, and our heroine was glad she’d found them before the man progressed with his sick mind.

“Please,” He croaked, “I wasn’t going to hurt her, she just-,”

“No.”  
The man gave her a pathetic kind of smile, and that’s the worst part, seeing how happy he was when he thought he would live.

“Here.” Banshee let a gentleness enter her voice as she brought his hands into hers.

He was on his knees, looking up at her with his disgusting eyes.

“Tell me,” She let the influencing tones enter her words, “Have you done anything like this before, like what you were going to do to this girl?”

Dianna peered over at the drunkenly unconscious girl, putting one leg in front of her protectively as she blocked the man from the girl with her body.

“Well,” He started, still smiling, influenced by her voice to give the answers she requested, almost like he was happy to do it because he was, they always were, “I’ve done it three other times. They were all like her, drunk, easy.”

Dianna smiled with hidden malice, “I hope you burn for what you’ve done.”

The smell of smoke and cooking meat filled Dianna’s nose, and it brought a sickening sense of justice.

The man kept on smiling until he wasn’t, and then he fell to the ground, his flesh slowly charring from the inside out.

Banshee gently buttoned the drunk girls pants before pulling her jacket off, zipping it up over the girl to conceal what the girls ripped shirt didn’t.

Dianna never wore spandex when she was acting as the banshee, that was lame, so she only ever decked herself in a dark thick jacket to hide from the cold New York chill, a simple white tank top, and black leggings with blue trainers. The only thing preserving her identity was a black and red mask that covered her eyes and brows. She didn’t need to run or fight, not when she could cloud someone’s mind with a single word, so why dress like it?

Dianna hummed a tune for strength in her arms and legs as she slung the girl over her shoulders and then jumped to the rooftop, already making her way to the Jameson.

 

The Jameson was a dingy little motel, and the only place Dianna could go to as Banshee comfortably.

The Jameson was run by a small family, Lewis Jameson, Maggie Jameson, and Donny Jameson.

Incidentally, Maggie, Lewis, and Dianna had found each other in high school, back when Maggie was Maggie Crestan and Lewis was an honors student who snuck out at night. The two had taken quite a liking to the girl with the unusual voice, and Dianna quickly found a confidant in them both, and since then the couple had helped her control her voice better, they’d all managed peace, together, even now.

 

“They say the devil’s daughter came on a sunny day, giving joy to the world and to all who were graced by her smile. Her father fell from heaven, but she still had that heavenly smile about her-”

 

“Sounds good kid,” Dianna ran her fingers through the boy's scraggly mop of brown hair, “You really are getting somewhere.”

Donny was perhaps the most important person in Dianna’s life. He was born as Donna Jameson but ended up Donny. He wanted to keep the similar name, but only because he was named after his aunt Dianna.

“Thanks, Dee,” The boy grinned up at her.

He didn’t know about her powers, if he did, it would put a target on his back, and Dianna couldn’t live with herself if he got hurt.

Once again, she thanked whatever god was up in the sky that Don had been asleep when Dianna had hauled the unconscious girl back to the motel. She, of course, left a note for the girl, explaining what had happened, and she left a twenty next to the note, to ensure she got a cab home. In fact, that morning, it was Dianna who called the girl a cab, once she’d seen her walk through the doorway into the lobby.

“Do you think it would be good for the contest at school, ya know, the one that offers a scholarship into that fancy district.”

Donny went to public school, a few blocks down from the motel. It had taken everything in Dianna to not use her power to influence the principal at the exclusive school next to midtown in queens.

“Hell yeah, you’re gonna kick ass, kid.”

Dianna didn’t get to hear Donny’s response, because Maggie yelled for her to not swear around the impressionable tween.   
This was peace.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James struggles with his emotions, Dianna is faced with her worst fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, tbh I have had this chapter plus chapter three waiting in my folders for literal months bc I forgot oopp   
> anyways here this ig, im gonna get a lot less dramatic in these notes than I have been btw
> 
> This is gonna be a couple hundred words less than the first because I wanted the chapter to end just before our bois meet

James Buchanan hadn't quite felt at peace for some time. The last he could recall was amidst a war, at base camp, not necessarily peaceful but in his situation paled base camp by so much. 

Bucky supposed that there wasn't much of an argument, he was addicted to the peace that the lounge brought, it was clear from day one, and there was no going back.  
Without a doubt James was addicted, hook line, and sinker, he was in love with the serenity that she brought. Her voice reminded him of Rebecca, of his mother, of Steve stuffing newspapers into his shoes, of easier days. Coney island, playing baseball in the streets. When he was there he could feel himself floating in a sea of memories. He was addicted to it, his true drug was the absence of pain. 

She was incredible, she could move a room to tears, could make them feel truly at peace, make them fall in love with strangers. On those special nights when she seemed to be in pain, the whole room was in an uproar, all so willing to end her pain. When he left the show, he had to restrain himself with his, um... unique, arm to prevent himself from peating someone to a pulp.  
He'd stowed himself away in the gym for days, doing nothing but working away from the frustration he had. Two whole days, that's how long he waited to feel at peace again. It was cruel of her to leave him so wanting, but he liked it, he liked the aftermath she left him in. 

The next night he saw her he was practically high on adrenaline. Every night was Russian Roulette, every chamber loaded with a different emotion, a different sin. 

Over his last two weeks of visits, RUby had been doing little kindnesses for him, buying his table drinks, giving him her sweet smiles. On the night she had sent the drinks, Bucky found himself lucky, he was under the red alcove when he realized who they were from, she couldn't see the effect she had on him. Maybe she had recognized him, or Natasha, wither way, she was in too deep, he was dangerous. But there was something about her that made him think she could handle herself. She was a big girl, what business of his was it if she wanted to get involved.

Despite everything in him telling him, it was a bad idea, then Natasha and Steve advising him against it, he continued to go see her. Over those two weeks, he had learned he was wrong. God, he was wrong. She wasn't just a pretty face, she was truly and wholly a goddess. When she was on stage, she controlled the room, commanded it even, she demanded attention, and she got it. She was a modern Boudicea, a warrior in her own right, a powerful force. Bucky was a goner.

There was something about the timeless woman, the man out of time, and the timeless woman, a hell of a pair. She could practically control him. 

And he was happy to be in her control, for all her pretty smiles and flirtatious winks and her ability to calm him in a way that two years and a million therapists couldn't.  
So, after bringing up his problem to Natasha, he ended up at the lounge with Steve, Sam, Natasha, and the little one named Wanda, mostly because Wanda just wanted to come with the big kids. They were supposed to help him and Natasha discern what Ruby meant by all those looks, they were a team of spies, super-powered people, and soldiers, Wanda was fucking telepathic or something. So, after all that, why could they still not figure out what Ruby was doing.

One minute she was shaking her hips, giving those sweet flirty smiles that took him back in time, and the nest she was growling, cold as ice and sharp as a blade. 

"She doesn't like me,"

A roar of protest echoed around him, Steve looking disapproving and Sam taking a swig of one of the fruity cocktails Ruby had bought for the lot of them. Bucky was tired of drinking on her money, he was ready to show he cared, but he was sure she didn't want that, not yet.

"Then whys she keeps giving you bedroom eyes?" Sam exclaimed, startling Wanda, who'd been watching performers on the stage.

"Sam is right, James, she clearly sees something, and I can feel her from all the way over here," Wanda nodded to the blonde-haired beauty in question, who was sitting at the bar, looking delectable as ever.

"What are you feeling, Wanda?" It was Steve's turn to chime in.

"Frustration mostly," Wanda snickered, smiling at the men across the booth, "She thinks you don't like her."

"But I do!" Bucky could hear his own frustration.

"And what have you done to show it?" Natasha spoke up, looking away from Ruby to give Bucky a face.

"Well, I-"

Steve and Sam started laughing, causing Wanda and Natasha to break into their own fits.

Exactly," Natasha clicked her tongue at him, "Now hush, she goes on in ten minutes." Natasha slyly motioned at Ruby, who was standing from the bar and heading toward the back performers' rooms.

"Oooh, James," Wanda piped, "You're in trouble."

From the moment those curtains pulled back, Bucky was filled with a hopeless kind of romance and a touch of lust.  
She was laying on a fancy couch, wearing a flowing skirt and lingerie, and Buckys heart nearly stopped.

When she opened her mouth and started the song slowly, it was nice, like the calm before a hurricane.

And then she jumped up, and several members of the audience jumped up too, even Sam scrambled to get out of the booth.

And then she was spinning and giggling and singing so beautifully.

Somehow she spun right into Sam's arms, and Wanda was giggling at the look on Bucky's face. He supposed he felt jealous, how could he not, but he also supposed that she wasn't his. It helped that she was still singing, distracting him from his worries as she spun herself into another man's arms.

 

"I'm not in love with her!"

"We didn't say you were, were just insisting that you've got a problem."

Bucky sighed, burying his face in his palms. Natasha and Steve had both stepped up to convince Bucky to speak with Ruby, and for once, Bucky was thankful that there was a mission briefing to go to, it would mean about forty minutes of guaranteed silence, and Bucky couldn't wait.

 

"To what purpose do these sinful eyes bleed, and to what purpose does this humble heart yearn-" Ruby continued.

Tonight was a poetry night, different, but the same. He still got to hear Ruby's voice, and she was somehow doubly soothing speaking poetry than she was singing. Her songs made you crave her and the calm she brought with her, but her poetry made you feel something else, something comparable to the rush of a first kiss mixed with the certainty of a bedtime story. And Bucky was glad to be drowning in her words.

"For they know that you are mine, Rubys eyes found Buckys in the crowd, And I am yours, they weep for they know they shall never see a lover as bright as a winter storm, and they shall never feel a kiss other than yours, tears of joy, mourning a life of sadness that I would see without you."

It felt like she was speaking directly to him, and it was certainly likely that she was.

Ruby sipped at the glass of red wine in her hand, reclining back into her seat, and starting the next poem.

"Would you talk to her already?"

At this point, even Wanda, easily the most gentle of the group, had gotten fed up with Buckys pining.

"She's right, Buck," Steve piped from next to James, "A girl like that can get bored when she doesn't get the attention she's craving. And I don't blame her, you've done nothing to show your interested."

Steve made a big show of throwing his hands into the air as Wanda giggled at his theatrics.

It was just the three of them, James, Steve, and Wanda. Ruby wasn't supposed to perform tonight, so Wanda and Steve thought the lounge would've been a good and calm place for Bucky and Wanda to teach Steve Russian.

Ruby had been a special guest, appearing out of seemingly nowhere, not that Bucky had any objections.  
When shed waltzed on stage, this time in a getup that resembled a forties pinup, Bucky went slack-jawed, doing his best to ignore Steve and Wanda's endless teasing.

Ruby finished her performance, giving a bow that showed off her cleavage, before hopping off the stage and traipsing to the bar, ignoring the disappointment that radiated off the room.

"Now's your chance," Steve urged.

James Buchanan Barnes was the winter soldier, the white wolf, a howling commando, a war hero and criminal all rolled into one, and still, somehow, he couldn't bring himself to stand up and walk over there.

It was something about her, something that made him scared to approach and long to all the same.  
Maybe it was his past, it could have something to do with the things hydra beat into him, or maybe it was just something different with her, either way, he couldn't just walk up to her, especially not after pretending to ignore her advances for nearly four weeks now.

His mind flitted between resolves, go to her, stay away from her, she's beautiful, being around her puts her in danger, so many things. But it wasn't until he was finally sure about staying put, that Ruby downed the rest of her cocktail before standing and waltzing through the doors that led backstage.

It was all of two minutes later that a tray of drinks came, an assortment of aged brandy and whiskey, along with a note.  
A kiss was on the paper, a stain in the shape of plump lips, the same dark shade that ruby wore tonight. 

Enjoy the drinks, pretty boy, xoxo ~ Dianna, AKA Ruby  
Dianna, or Dianne as some called her, or Ruby, or Banshee, she was a woman of many names and talents. Too bad that cooking wasn't one of them.

Fuck.

The news was playing idly in the living room as Dianna tried and failed to cook dinner for herself and Donny. His parents were out on a date night and Dianna had agreed to spend the night to ensure Donny's safety in the New York night.

So far the hero had burned the spaghetti, and added too much water to the sauce, and undercooked the garlic bread somehow.

"Ok, new plan, were ordering takeout, you want Chinese or Mexican?"

Donny shrugged, not looking up from his notebook.

Just as Dianna was dialing up the Chinese place downtown, the news anchors startled voice broke out behind her.

"I've just been informed of a hostage situation taking place in Upper Brooklyn,"

Dianna tuned it out, the Avengers or some other superhero would deal with it, tonight she didn't have to don her athletic gear, she could be-

"Aunt D!"

Donny raced into the kitchen, his auburn curls disheveled with tears in his eyes, "Mom and Dad are there!"

It took a minute to register. Donny was pointing at the television, which displayed a hotel, one with a restaurant in it, the upscale place that Lewis and Maggie enjoyed going to in times of celebration.

Dianna's blood ran cold. Sure she could let the avengers or even the police deal with this, but did she really trust her friends her family's lives in the hands of heroes. Heroes and police would look at the big picture, but Dianna didn't care about the big picture, she cared about Lewis and Maggie and getting them back to Donny.

Her choice was made for her when she stared down at the fear in Donny's eyes. She couldn't leave him to wonder.

Mrs. Cho was a sweet lady, she lived just next door, and she was a reliable baby sitter when you needed one.  
Dianna thanked whatever god was listening that Mrs. Cho existed as she sprinted through the street heading straight for the restaurant, dodging people and cars alike.  
When she arrived, police were already surrounding the building, and one of the Avengers, Spider-Man, was outside the building yelling at the criminals.

Deciding it was best to sneak around him, Dianna quickly made her way around the building, finding herself in a stalemate once she saw her friends through a window, with men holding guns near them.

All at once, the men turned to her, pointing their guns and not hesitating to fire through the glass window. Dianna's feet pounded against the concrete, her legs aching as she struggled to dodge the mix of glass and lead following her.  
This would not end well.

James woke, hearing pounding feet above him. Vaguely he could make out the voice of Tony Stark, and then Natasha. They spoke all at once, their voices meshing into an unreadable jumble for his sleep ridden mind.

"You can't let Peter deal with this!" Tony barked, not even turning when Bucky entered the room. 

Behind Tony sat Steve and Fury. 

Bucky found himself uneasy, Fury wasn't someone he could trust. 

Sheild and Hydra were a sole organization by two different names once, and where was Nick Fury and Sheild when Bucky was being tortured. No, Bucky did not trust Nicholas J. Fury.

"Tony," Fury sighed, "Peter is eighteen now, he's old enough and experienced enough to handle this."

Tony looked at Nick, incredulous, "Old enough to die and it not be a scandal on your hands you mean!"

He threw his hands up, refusing to look anyone in the eye as he strode out, "I'm going to help the kid if anyone wants to go against Patchy the Pirate and do the right thing, suit up." 

Bucky looked at Steve, hoping for help, but Steve was already grabbing his shield off the table and going to get his suit. 

Bucky didn't have a suit, but defending one of the only people who didn't look at him like he was a freak sounded good in Bucky's book, it at least beat hanging out with Fury.

 

A single bullet, that's all it took to send Dianna flying into the concrete below her. 

She couldn't let this happen, it was against every moral she'd ever had. She'd taken the heat of the hostages, off Lewis and Maggie, at least for a little while, maybe long enough for Spider-Man to get them out.

She wouldn't go down, she couldn't picture dying here, she'd die on a private island, surrounded by adoring fans and loved ones. She'd be buried in a beautiful coffin, with an elegant headstone, donning in a red dress and holding beautiful white roses, she wouldn't die the faceless hero in this alley, it wasn't possible.

Above her, Dianna heard a thud, and in front of her on the ground was one of the men, and above him was a man mouthing something, not mouthing, but Dianna's ears were ringing so bad she couldn't hear him.

In the back of her mind a name came up, Tony Stark, Ironman, but right now Dianna could only focus on the stinging pain in her side, but was it. It felt like electricity was flowing through her body. Her arms, her legs, her chest, everywhere. When she finally got the will to tilt her head down, all she saw was red, bile rose in her throat and she found herself heaving up the air in the alley. 

Dianna couldn't find it in herself to begin singing to heal herself, choosing instead to hum a lullaby she used to sing to Donny. Donny.

Donny couldn't be an orphan, he wouldn't be.

Dianna wouldn't let him live that life. She'd seen what that life does first hand, and all that pained didn't deserve to be felt by anyone. 

Her body stung like she'd been struck by lightning, the pain sharp and lasting, but she shoved away Ironman when he moved to stop her. She didn't trust him, the only people she'd ever really trusted were about to die.

She couldn't let that happen, so she stumbled right into the fray.

 

James hadn't realized just how aggressively parental Tony was until just now. He was on the scene without waiting for anyone else. Bucky and Steve rolled up on their bikes, well, Steve's bikes.

Nearly a second after dismounting, he heard the gunshots. At least fifty shots were fired off, and he decided he was lucky to not be on the receiving end of them.

The glass exploded around him, the restaurant shaking as it lost nearly every window it had, and instinctively he raised his arm and grabbed the nearest person, shielding them from the spray of glass. 

It was a small man if you could even call him that, he looked fresh out of the police academy.

James didn't hesitate, helping Steve gather up civilians that were attracted by the blast, herding them behind police tape, and far enough away that there would be no injuries. It was better like this, staying away from the real fight, just gently dealing with the innocent people, James preferred it greatly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp theres that shit show, if you want message me I love hearing from people who read my stuff plus I could use the feedback pls help


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